


The Way Home

by shions_heart



Series: Being Human [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Demon Hunters, Demons, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Magic, Violence, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 23:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20321527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shions_heart/pseuds/shions_heart
Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime belongs to the House of the White Rose coven: pristine, prestigious, holding magical purity above all else. But when he meets Oikawa Tooru, he's torn between what he thinks he wants and the life Oikawa offers to him.It's only when he's sent on a dangerous assignment into the harsh Hell dimension of Hinokoku, that he realizes what "home" really means to him.((A stand-alone prequel toBeing Human: Origins.))





	The Way Home

**Author's Note:**

> I LIIIIIIIIIVE !!!
> 
> So sorry it's taken me so long to get back into writing, but after a deep personal loss, it took a while for the healing process to get to the point where I felt I could write again. But here I am! Back at it again at the Krispy Kreme with an 11k IwaOi one-shot.
> 
> You don't need to have read _Being Human: Origins_ for this, but it would help to fill in the blanks.

“just close your eyes, the sun is going down  
you’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now  
come morning light, you and i’ll be safe and sound”

\-- taylor swift, _safe & sound_

* * *

“Hajime, please stop fidgeting.”

Iwaizumi Hajime curls his fingers into the skirt of his yukata, frowning down at the geta on his feet. Behind him, his mother adjusts his obi, tying it off expertly.

“Why do I have to go to the Gathering?” he asks, lower lip sticking out just slightly. “It’s not like I get to do anything there.”

“I’ve told you,” Iwaizumi Makoto says patiently, “all covens must be present at the Gathering. It shows solidarity.”

“But Dad always says that we’re better than the rest of the covens because we’re in The House of the White Rose, and our coven was the very first in Japan all those years ago,” Hajime says, scratching the side of his nose.

Makoto’s expression tightens, but she forces a small smile. “Some people hold that opinion, yes. But it is still important to show our loyalty to our fellow covens.”

“Can I at least get some candy this year?”

Makoto laughs, straightening as she ruffles his hair. “We’ll see.”

The Gathering is a festival of sorts. Each year, every coven in Japan comes together to fellowship. The Coven Council members meet and discuss laws, their academies, new and old policies, etc. Meanwhile, those witches of the covens that decide to attend the Gathering hang out on the streets, playing games and enjoying food stalls and other entertainment.

Although there are hundreds of covens throughout Japan, there are four main Houses with groups that reside within the Tōhoku and Kantō regions. The House of the Eastern Star, the largest, has seventy-five groups spread out among both regions, with various academies in which their witches-in-training study for their license exams. The House of the White Swan is the second largest at fifty groups and owns the illustrious private campus of the Shiratorizawa Magic Academy. Their application process is brutal, and they only take in those with a strong magical heritage.

The House of the Black Crow comes next, significantly smaller than the other three, with only six groups located around Sendai and four in Tokyo. They’ve been struggling lately, their Demon Hunter teams small and disorganized, ranking low on the national scale. While they used to be a powerful group on par with The House of the White Swan, they suffered a devastating blow when three of their best Demon Hunter teams were defeated in a battle with several Class 4 demons ten years ago.

Finally, the House of the White Rose. Prestigious, pristine. They pride themselves on their pure magical heritage, not mixing with non-magical humans. Those that do are stripped of their magic and banished. Because of this, it has grown smaller in numbers as the generations pass. Once as large as The House of the Eastern Star, less than thirty groups remain. This hasn’t affected their pride, however, as they continue to hold themselves up as the standard all covens must attempt to emulate.

Hajime and his family have attended the Gathering the past three years, ever since Iwaizumi Hiroto joined the Coven Council of The House of the White Rose. Unfortunately, seeing as his parents believe indulging in the festivities and rubbing elbows with the “lesser witches” is unsightly, Hajime has spent the past three years watching everything from the window of the building in which the council meeting is held.

It’s incredibly boring. And now that he’s sixteen, he thinks he should be able to make his own decisions about how he spends his time. He doesn’t think hanging out on the streets with the other witches will make him dirty somehow. Just because he plays some games, that doesn’t mean he’s giving up his ideals.

But when he and his parents arrive at the building, Hiroto turns to his son.

“Stay inside,” he instructs. “This will only take a few hours, then we will go home.”

Hajime sighs. “Do I have to? I promise I won’t talk to anyone.”

Hiroto frowns. “It’s not just about you talking to others, Hajime. It’s things you can overhear. Opinions that are untrue. Some people can be very persuasive, and I don’t want them filling your head with lies, even unintentionally.”

“What if I plug my ears?”

“I said no, and that is final.”

“Hajime, don’t argue with your father,” Makoto says softly, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze.

Hajime relents, but he scowls at Hiroto’s back, as the man enters the meeting room. Shrugging off his mother’s hand, he crosses over to the window, looking down into the street below. It’s already teaming with people, despite the early hour of the evening. Many are dressed in yukata, like him, but some are in casual clothing.

A group of boys around his age fight over something directly below the window. Hajime presses his hands against the glass, staring down with interest, as the tallest of the group, a boy with a wild crest of dark hair, laughs and waves what appears to be a piece of candy above his head. A shorter boy, face red with exertion, dark brown hair slicked to the side, jumps up and down, trying to reach it. To the side, another boy holds his stomach, howling with laughter.

He throws back his head, and suddenly his gaze meets Hajime’s. His eyes widen, large and brown, and then he flashes a brilliant smile and waves.

Hajime jerks away from the window, cheeks burning. His stomach churns, his chest aching. He has friends in his coven, those boys his parents have vetted and allow him to spend time with, but he’s not very close to any of them. And they certainly never roughhouse like those below.

Slowly, he approaches the window again. The two boys that were fighting are gone, but the one with the brown eyes . . . he’s still there, eyes trained on the building. Again, he meets Hajime’s gaze, and this time he beckons to him. Hajime shakes his head. The boy beckons to him again.

Glancing over his shoulder, Hajime sees his mother settled down in a plush armchair, reading one of her romance novels, of which Hiroto doesn’t approve.

“Mom? I need to go to the toilet.”

“Okay, dear.”

She doesn’t look up from her book. Hajime makes his way down the hall, past the toilets, down the stairs, and out of the building.

The boy with the brown eyes is still there, and his grin widens as Hajime approaches.

“Hi!” he says brightly, excitedly.

_He’s never even seen me before._ “Hello . . .”

“What were you doing up there?”

“My dad’s in the meeting. I’m supposed to wait for him up there.”

The boy tilts his head, his grin shifting into something crafty. “But you’re down here.”

Hajime fidgets, rubbing his sweaty hands on the skirt of his yukata. “I guess.”

“I won’t tell,” the boy says, holding out his hand. “I’m Tooru. Oikawa Tooru.”

Hajime takes the hand slowly. “Iwaizumi Hajime.”

Oikawa suddenly pulls him forward, until their faces are inches apart. “You want to see something cool?”

Hajime’s heart pounds rapidly in his chest, he can hear it in his ears, blood rushing. “Um.”

“Come on~”

Without waiting for a complete answer, Oikawa pulls him into the crowd. Hajime stumbles, hastening to catch up. His hands are sweaty again, but Oikawa’s grip remains firm, as he weaves in and out of the people milling about the street.

“I’m not supposed to—” Hajime cuts himself off, as he swerves around an elbow before it can hit his face. “I’m not supposed to hang out with witches outside my coven.”

“What’s your coven?” Oikawa asks, glancing over his shoulder.

“The House of the White Rose.”

“_Oh_.” Oikawa makes a face.

Hajime bristles. “What’s wrong with it? What coven are _you_ in?”

“The best one. The House of the Eastern Star.”

Hajime blinks. “My dad says that coven is full of dirty blood. You marry humans.”

Oikawa laughs. “We’re all human.”

“_Normal_ humans.”

“So? You guys marry your cousins and shit.”

Hajime frowns. “Not . . . always.”

Oikawa stops, turning to face him. They’ve reached the other end of the street, and there are less people now, allowing Hajime room to release Oikawa’s hand and take a step back.

“If you think we’re so dirty, why did you come with me?”

“You dragged me down the street.”

“You could’ve gotten away if you really wanted to.” Oikawa sticks out his tongue. “Do you always believe everything your parents tell you?”

Hajime narrows his eyes, sensing a challenge. “No,” he says obstinately.

“Good.” Oikawa beckons. “Come with me.”

He ducks around the corner of a building, into an alleyway. Hajime hesitates only briefly, before he sprints after him. Oikawa leads him up a fire escape and onto the roof of the building. Hajime can’t help but glance down the street, wondering if his mother has noticed him missing yet. Will she interrupt the meeting? Will she tell his father?

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa calls to him, waving from the center of the roof.

Hajime frowns. _Iwa-chan? What am I? Five?_ “Don’t call me that,” he says, as he makes his way over.

“Check this out!” Oikawa exclaims, cupping his hands over his mouth. He whispers a spell too quietly for Hajime to make out, and then puckers his lips. He blows outward and bubbles stream from his mouth.

Hajime watches, fascinated, as the bubbles float in the air above him, rising higher and higher. Oikawa laughs, and Hajime whirls back around.

“How did you do that?”

Oikawa grins. “It’s a secret,” he says, tapping his lips, eyes sparkling. “Only my friends get to know.” He lifts his eyebrows pointedly.

Again, Hajime hesitates. “I’m not supposed to—”

Oikawa sniffs. “Then I guess I won’t show you what _else_ I can do. And it’s _really_ cool.”

Hajime fidgets, torn between his curiosity and his obligation to obey his parents. Then again, he supposes he’s already disobeyed them by leaving in the first place . . .

“Okay, we’re friends,” he decides. “What else can you do?”

Oikawa spends the next hour or so showing Hajime magic tricks. He shoots fireworks from his fingertips, conjures clouds that he then transforms into different shapes and animals. He even teaches Hajime the bubble trick, and the two of them get distracted blowing bubbles at each other.

Eventually, Oikawa takes Hajime back down into the street. He leads him from vendor to vendor, paying to play the games with him. They don’t win very many prizes, but Hajime doesn’t care. It’s the most fun he’s had in his entire life.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. As he walks along the sidewalk with Oikawa, each eating from a box of candy Oikawa won, Makoto suddenly appears in front of them.

“There you are!” she exclaims. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“Hi,” Oikawa says with an easy smile. “I’m Oikawa Tooru!”

He bows politely, but Makoto regards him with distaste.

“How dare you drag my son into your frivolous activities. He’s a good boy. He doesn’t need influences like you.”

“But Mom—”

“No, Hajime! You’re lucky I didn’t tell your father you were missing. Come with me right now.”

She grabs his arm, pulling him away before Hajime can further protest. He glances back at Oikawa, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, holding the box of candy with both hands and blinking back at him. He looks a little lost, a little sad, and Hajime’s chest aches.

“He wasn’t being a bad influence,” Hajime says, looking up at his mom’s tight jaw. “We were having fun.”

“Fun with teens like that boy can lead to other things, things that are not ‘fun,’” Makoto says tightly. She stops just outside the council meeting building, turning Hajime to face her, setting her hands on his shoulders.

“Promise me you’ll never see him again.”

Hajime bites his lip. He doesn’t want to promise. He _liked_ Oikawa. But he sees real fear in his mom’s eyes, for reasons he doesn’t know. He’s afraid to ask what might happen if he _does_ see Oikawa again. So eventually he nods, slowly.

“I promise.”

***

It’s three weeks later when Hajime wakes to a soft knock on his window. It’s almost midnight, and both his parents have gone to bed. At first he thinks it might just be the wind hitting a tree branch against his window, but then he hears the knock again. A quick _rap, rap, rap, rap_ against the glass.

Pushing back his covers, he walks to the window, pulling open the curtains. He jumps in surprise at the figure standing outside. His heart races in his chest, but when the figure leans closer, he sees it’s none other than Oikawa Tooru.

Hajime flings open the window.

“Are you crazy?” he hisses. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Seeing you, duh,” Oikawa says with a grin. “Can you sneak out?”

Hajime shakes his head. “My parents will kill me.”

“Guess I gotta sneak in then.”

And with that, Oikawa has hoisted himself up over the windowsill and entered his room. Hajime quickly shuts the window, shaking his head with a scowl.

“You can’t be here,” he says, looking nervously at the door. “If my parents find out—”

“Shh, don’t worry. I’ve been working on an invisibility spell. Check it out.” With a quickly muttered phrase, Oikawa’s form shimmers and then disappears.

“That’s pretty cool,” Hajime admits reluctantly.

“Of course it is,” Oikawa says, becoming visible once more.

“How come you can get away with doing magic unsupervised?” Hajime asks, sitting down on his bed. “Don’t they monitor you at The House of the Eastern Star?”

“Yeah, but I got my permit early,” Oikawa says with a smirk, pulling a card out of his pocket and waving it in front of Hajime’s face.

“Fuck, seriously?” Hajime grabs the card, staring down at Oikawa’s incredibly photogenic face. He frowns then, squinting up at the teen across from him. “Is this fake?”

Oikawa gasps, snatching the permit away from him. “Of course it’s not fake! I earned it with my hard work and dedication!”

“Shh, shh,” Hajime lifts his hands, glancing nervously at the door.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Oikawa says, waving his own hand dismissively. “I put up a sound barrier around your room before I knocked on your window. Your parents won’t hear us.”

Strangely, this doesn’t seem to help Hajime’s anxiety. His heart pounds quickly in his chest, as he slowly realizes that he might actually be able to have this. To have a true friend. Someone who obviously _wants_ to spend time with him. Who likes him enough to, even despite his heritage and coven.

“How did you even find me?” he asks, feeling somewhat lightheaded.

“Research!” Oikawa chirps. “You said your dad was in the council meeting, so I looked up an Iwaizumi on the Coven Council of the House of the White Rose. Once I had his full name, it was easy to find out your home address.”

“Easy?” Hajime asks.

“We’ve already established I’m the smartest kid you know, Iwa-chan, please keep up.”

Hajime frowns. “But that still doesn’t explain _why_. Why did you go to all that trouble to find me?”

Oikawa shrugs. “I don’t know. You looked really lonely in the window during the festival. And after your mom practically told me to fuck off . . . well, I love a challenge.” He grins.

_So is this just a game to you? Or do you actually like me?_ Hajime isn’t brave enough to ask it out loud.

And so begins a sort of routine. Almost every night, Oikawa comes to his window, tapping out his now special knock. Hajime lets him in and they spend the night whispering on the floor behind his bed, sharing secrets, swapping stories, and trading spell tricks. Oikawa knows a lot more spells than he, but he’s so eager to share them with Hajime, he can’t really be mad about it. He envies Oikawa, more often than not. He lives with a freedom Hajime has never known, and fears he’ll never get to know. Oikawa speaks of running away together, but Hajime balks time and again, never sure if his friend is serious and fearing the trouble he’d get in if he gave into the temptation.

Still, he looks forward to these nightly visits, feeling like the weight of the day has been lifted the second he sees Oikawa’s bright smile appear behind his curtains. The anxiety over being caught fades over time as well, as Oikawa’s silence spell seems to work in their favor.

They do almost get caught one night. Hajime lay sick in bed, having been coughing with a fever all day. He has an herbal compress on his forehead that’s supposed to whisk away the virus by morning, but he still gets out of bed to let Oikawa in when he knocks on his window.

“Wow, you look terrible, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says as soon as he sees him.

Hajime frowns. “Thanks,” he says drily, getting back into bed to lay down.

“Are you sick?” Oikawa asks, hopping over to the bed and looking down at him with concern.

Hajime coughs into his hand, grabbing the compress to press it back against his forehead. “What do you think?”

Oikawa taps his chin. “Well, I came all this way, so I might as well stay.”

He sits down on the edge of Hajime’s bed, but before he can say anything further, Hajime’s door begins to open. Oikawa jumps to his feet, dropping to the floor, as he turns himself invisible. Hajime’s heart pounds rapidly in his throat, as he watches Makoto enter with a glass of water.

“I just came to check on you before I turn in for the night,” she says with a soft smile, setting the glass of water down on the bedside table.

“Oh, um, thanks,” Hajime squeaks, embarrassed by the way his voice cracks but fear thrums through his veins, making it difficult to form any type of coherent thought.

Thankfully Makoto only readjusts the compress and kisses his cheek before saying goodnight. He repeats the sentiment softly, watching her go and not relaxing until the door clicks shut.

“Wow! That was a close one,” Oikawa says, popping up beside his bed and nearly giving Hajime a heart attack.

“You should go,” he croaks out hoarsely, his heart attempting to strangle him from inside his throat.

Oikawa frowns. “But I just got here.”

“Please! Leave!” Hajime can only imagine what horrible things his father might do if they’re caught. The House of the White Rose doesn’t tolerate deserters, and while his mother might believe him if he insists nothing is going on, he doubts Hiroto will. The last thing he wants is for the House of the White Rose to take away his magic, his dream of becoming a Demon Hunter. Fear causes his chest to seize up, and he looks at his friend pleadingly.

“Please. They can’t find you here,” he begs softly, looking up at Oikawa imploringly.

He can’t read Oikawa’s expression, as he stands there staring down at him. Finally, after what feels like a lifetime of silence, he nods and turns away.

“Okay, Iwa-chan,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

He climbs out of the window, shutting it behind him. Hajime lays there and listens to his heart hammering away in his ears. He isn’t able to relax for hours, and it’s only as a pale light shines against the floorboards from a gap in his curtains that he’s able to fall asleep.

Oikawa doesn’t show the next night, or the next. Hajime fears he may have scared off his only friend, dooming himself even as he tried to protect them. But then the next week Oikawa returns, knocking on the window with his signature cheeky grin.

“All good now?” he asks, hope glimmering in his eyes.

Hajime hesitates only briefly before nodding. “All good,” he promises.

“Excellent.”

He climbs through the window and things return to normal, though the fear lingers in Hajime’s mind, and his mind cruelly plays scenario after scenario of them being discovered, of the House of the White Rose cutting off his magic, banishing him, of losing the most important person in his life.

He isn’t sure when Oikawa became that person, but even he can recognize the way his heart swells when he sees Oikawa each night, and how it sinks when Oikawa leaves. There’s something there. Something he’s never experienced before. And as days turn to weeks and turn to months and then years, that feeling only grows more and more potent, until he can’t deny it any longer.

He speaks nothing of it, terrified of what he might lose if he admits it. His discovery bolsters his confidence and courage, however, to the point where he’s able to leave his room willingly, sneaking out in the dead of night to go to parties and concerts and movies. He’s willing to risk it, he realizes. Spending time with Oikawa is worth the anxiety and fear. With Oikawa he feels more alive than he ever has in his entire life. He’s able to loosen up, have _fun_, hell, even _laugh_, which is something he rarely, if ever, did growing up.

Then comes his eighteenth birthday, and everything changes.

***

“Iwaizumi Hajime, by order of The House of the White Rose, you are to complete an assignment within the Hell dimension of Hinokoku. At the completion of this assignment, you will be awarded your training permit, able to use your magic freely to practice for the license exam. This assignment will test your strength, your stamina, your spell casting ability, and your ability to think and act quickly under pressure. It is not for the faint of heart. If you decline this mission or fail to complete it, your magic will be stripped from you, and you will no longer be eligible to obtain your license or practice magic in any field. Do you understand the parameters that I’ve set before you?”

Hajime swallows hard, rubbing sweaty palms against his pants as he stares across the room at the head of the Coven Council, Ito Masaru, seated in front of him behind his large desk. He nods, knowing he has no other choice. The thought of being sent alone into one of the harshest Hell dimensions frightens him, but he knows he can’t refuse. His magic is a part of him, his identity. He’s wanted to be a Demon Hunter ever since he was a little kid hearing stories about the heroic men and women who fight to defend Japan from demons and monsters. Without this assignment, he’ll be nothing, a nobody.

Besides, Oikawa is already well on his way to become a powerful Hunter himself, and Hajime doesn’t want to be left behind.

“I’m ready,” he says, his voice steadier than he expects it to be.

He believes it, at least. The House of the White Rose trains their witch potentials with grueling techniques that have often left Hajime burnt out and exhausted. They train the mind and the body to be resilient, to overcome obstacles, and to fight in hand-to-hand combat. Despite the trepidation he feels going into a Class 3 Hell Dimension, he knows that they’ve given him the tools to survive. Now he has to prove that he can use them effectively.

The large heavy doors open behind him, and two men in dark robes enter, the coven logo, a white rose surrounded by thorny vines, stitched above their hearts. Hajime watches, as one pulls a pendant on a string out from beneath his robes, magic swirling within it. As he focuses on it, reciting a spell, Hajime can’t help but wish Oikawa was there beside him. It’ll never happen, he knows. He won’t ever be able to partner with Oikawa on a Hunting team, but he thinks he’d be a lot more comfortable going in on this assignment with Oikawa.

A foolish wish, perhaps, but it makes his chest feel warm.

A portal opens up before him, interrupting his thoughts. He stares at the expanse of red sand, the blackened, gnarled trees, lifeless and barren. He can feel the heat from where he stands, sweltering and stale. The second man hands him a backpack.

“There’s a week’s worth of food and water in here,” he tells him. “Don’t lose it.”

“Wait, what’s my assignment?” Hajime asks, even as he takes the pack.

“Survive,” the man says, unflinchingly.

Hajime blinks, but before he can ask any more questions, the portal flies toward him, and he’s suddenly standing in the middle of the desert. The portal blinks out of existence behind him, and Hajime realizes that he may not be ready after all.

He begins walking. There’s nothing else he can do, really. He knows staying out in the middle of nowhere with no shelter will get him killed pretty quickly, so he begins to look for places he can camp out. He can’t see the sun, the red sky covered with black clouds that swirl ominously, but he can feel it. The heat surrounds him on all sides. He feels as though he’s stuck inside of an oven, baking slowly. The first thing he does is pull off his jacket, tying it around his head to protect the back of his neck. Sweat drips down his spine, his shirt sticking to him like a second skin beneath the backpack. The ground is packed hard beneath his feet, cracked and dry, but he can see sand dunes ahead. Licking his blistered lips with a tongue that feels like sandpaper in his mouth, he squints in all directions, searching for something, anything that will provide him with shelter.

It feels like hours have gone by before he discovers the wall of red rock to the left. He can see caves dotting it like black circles. They’re probably occupied, but he’ll have to fight his way into one. He has no idea if the night is as hot as the day, but he knows he won’t survive a full twelve hours in the elements either way. He makes his way toward them, bringing his magic up to test it. The heat continues to drain him of energy and moisture, but his magic seems unaffected. It rises up willingly, dancing along his fingertips in golden sparks. That’s a relief, at least. He has no weapons, but he can still use magic to defend himself or fight off any creatures that might currently dwell in the cave he chooses.

He breaks into a jog, eyes scanning the rocks as it looms higher. There are creatures circling the sky above it, black dots with wings, and he can hear faint screeches drifting down from them.

A closer cry grabs his attention, turning his blood to ice. He lowers his gaze and looks ahead. In the mouth of the cave closest to him, a massive, furry beast is fighting a smaller creature. It’s the smaller one that cried out; Hajime can see it bleeding from a claw mark across its side. It’s still fighting, however, lashing out with claws and teeth. Hajime crouches lower to the ground as he draws nearer. It looks like a giant dog, short-haired, its fur a tawny color streaked with red. Despite its ferocity, it’s clearly losing the fight, as the beast is much larger, with claws the size of Hajime’s entire body and a long muzzle full of razor-sharp teeth. Its own black fur is standing on end, making it appear even larger. From this distance, Hajime can’t see its eyes or ears, but as he scrambles to remember his studies, he recognizes it as one of the twelve categories of creatures that live in Hinokoku: a Hell Beast.

The dog creature appears to be a Hell Hound. Smaller and usually traveling in packs, they’re not as dangerous as the Hell Beasts, and tend to belong to Greater Demons as pets or attack animals. What one is doing out here alone in the middle of nowhere, Hajime has no idea, but he figures if he waits long enough, the Hell Beast will kill it and either move on or move into the cave, which it’s probably fighting over in the first place.

As he hunkers down behind a boulder, however, Hajime can’t help but wince, as the Hell Hound continues to fight despite the fact that it’s losing.

_If I go over there, there’s no guarantee it won’t attack me, even if I try to help,_ he reasons with himself, clenching his hands into fists.

But at the next anguished cry from the Hell Hound, Hajime finds he can’t just sit back and let the creature be killed right in front of him. Besides, if he can manage to make an ally, even of a Hell Hound, he might have a higher chance of surviving this Hell Dimension.

Jumping to his feet, Hajime rushes forward with the loudest yell he can muster from his dry throat. The Hell Beast whirls around to face him, nostrils flaring. Hajime can see its eyes now, red circles of fury set deep within its black fur. The ears are long and laid back, and as it roars, Hajime can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

He doesn’t stop, though, but summons his magic to him, forcing it out of his hands in a giant blast that hits the Beast square in the chest. It stumbles back, shaking its head and growling. Hajime notices the Hound, struggling to stand from where it’d collapsed.

“I can help you, buddy, I just need your help first, okay?” Hajime calls out, not sure if it’ll work but knowing it’s unlikely that he can defeat this Beast on his own.

Muttering another spell, he grips the sword that forms in his hand, bringing it up to hold in both palms. He uses his magic to bolster his strength, as he leaps from the ground, coming down at the Beast with a swing of the sword. The Beast lifts it claw to slash at him, but stumbles back instead, as the Hound attacks its back legs with its teeth. Hajime lands on the creature, shoving his sword into its chest as far as he can push it, leaping off then, as the Beast thrashes and roars.

Summoning another sword, Hajime attacks again, not giving the Beast time to recover, even as the first sword dissipates, leaving a bleeding hole in the Beast’s chest. He swings at the stomach, this time, ducking and rolling beneath another swipe of a claw. He skids against the hard, red dirt beneath him, turning quickly and leaping out of the way of another strike.

The Hound growls and jumps forward despite its wounds, latching onto the Beast’s front leg with its jaw, sinking in and not budging, even as the Beast howls in pain and tries to shake it off. Using this opening, Hajime runs forward and sinks the second sword into the Beast’s stomach. It drops to its knees, blood pouring from each wound. This time, Hajime yanks the sword out and swings it around, bolstering his strength once more with magic, feeling it tingle along his arms as they start to glow with a golden hue. With a shout, he cuts into the Beast’s thick neck with as much force as he can, until it lobs clean off.

The Beast’s body remains upright for a moment, before falling to the side with a hard _thud_ against the ground.

Hajime stumbles back a step, breathing hard as he attempts to catch his breath. He releases the magic sword, and it dissipates, golden particles drifting back up into his torso. He inhales deeply, wiping away the sweat on his forehead with the back of his jacket.

He remembers the Hell Hound, then, and turns to look at it. It’s released the arm of the Beast, and is staring at him now, dark eyes set deep in its face. Now that Hajime has a closer look at it, he can see how thin it is, practically skin and bone, though the muscle and sinew of the creature are apparent as well. It limps forward, teeth bared slightly. Hajime backs away, not sure what to do now.

“Hey there, whoa . . .” He holds his hands up, shaking his head. “I’m not here to hurt you, okay? I just need some shelter. There’s room in the cave for both of us, yeah?”

He has no idea if the creature can understand him or not, so he just tries to appear as non-threatening as possible. The Hound regards him silently for a moment, before limping past him, into the cave. Hajime hesitates before turning and following.

The cave is dark and dry, still warm but out from under the sun it feels much cooler than before. The Hound makes its way to a far corner, away from the light from the cave’s entrance, before collapsing, its long black tongue flopping out as it pants heavily. It turns toward the gashes in its side, licking them.

“Hey, I can help with that,” Hajime says, as gently as he can. He steps forward cautiously, stopping at the low growl the Hound makes.

Holding up his hands, he slowly removes the backpack, setting it on the ground beside him. The Hound watches, as Hajime kneels beside it, opening it to look through. As the coven member stated, there are enough water bottles and food packs for a week, if rationed well. There’s a tarp and some rope, as well. Searching deeper, he finds three enchanted stones of healing, softly glowing blue and purple at the bottom of the pack.

_Only three? Are they kidding me with this shit?_

Shaking his head, he pulls a purple one out anyway. Holding it up, he shows it to the Hound. “If I hold this against you and say the spell, it’ll heal you. No more pain.” He points to the wound and then the stone before making smile and pointing to it. “Feel better.”

The Hound does nothing but continue staring, and Hajime takes that as a go ahead. Moving forward slowly, he moves the stone to the creature’s chest. As he says the spell, the stone begins to glow, and spirals of purple light emanate from it, curling around the Hound’s torso. It growls again, low in its throat, but Hajime continues, watching as the wounds begin to close. The growling ceases, and the stone turns black, spent, as the light fades.

Hajime tosses it away, standing as he backs away and allows the Hound to inspect its side, now healed. It turns its gaze onto Hajime, then, simply staring.

“Where’s your pack?” Hajime asked, sitting down against the rock wall across from it. “How come you’re here all alone?” He doesn’t really expect an answer. He pulls a water bottle out of his backpack, unscrewing the cap to take a small drink. He wants to be greedy and drink more, but he knows better than that. Sighing softly, he sets the bottle back into the backpack.

The Hound turns its gaze toward the cave entrance. In the dim red light from outside, Hajime can see now the black stripes that run along its side, covered some by the drying blood.

“Do you have a Master?” he asks, then, caught off-guard by the sudden growl that came from the Hound, as it whips its head around to face Hajime once more.

“I guess Greater Demons aren’t the best pet-owners, huh?” he offered, thinking that’d make sense. “So . . . what? You ran away from your evil Master and have just been out here trying to survive?”

The Hound huffs some, turning its gaze back toward the entrance.

“Well . . . I guess if you’re not going to try and kill me, I’m going to get some sleep. I’ve got to survive a week out here, and I have no idea how many more creatures I’m going to need to fight. I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow, though. Promise. I’m not looking to set up camp here.”

Hajime pulls the tarp out of the bag, shaking it out to use as a blanket. He lies down, then, using the bag as a pillow. The ground is hard and uncomfortable, but he doesn’t expect anything different. Figuring the Hound would probably make some sort of noise if they’re attacked as he sleeps, Hajime closes his eyes and allows himself to drift off, exhausted from the long trek through the desert and subsequent battle.

He dreams of Oikawa. Of his smile, his laugh, the sun reflecting off the sheen in his hair. Hajime _knows_ he uses products to keep that bounce and shine, has even teased him about it. Now, though, all he wants is to run his fingers through that hair, product or not. He dreams of running his hand through the strands, as Oikawa lays with his head in his lap, looking up at him with a grin.

_“Okay, Iwa-chan?”_

Hajime has no idea what he’s agreeing with, but he doesn’t want to see that expression disappear from Oikawa’s face.

_“Okay.”_

He wakes with a stiff neck and sand everywhere. There’s still light coming in from outside, making Hajime wonder if there’s no night here. He has no idea what time it is, or what day it is, even. How the fuck is he supposed to keep track of that? How is he going to know when he’s allowed back? Are they going to send for him? Is he supposed to find a way back on his _own_?

_Shit._

Sitting up, Hajime looks over to where the Hound was earlier. Surprisingly, it’s still there, head on its paws, breathing slowly. Hajime has no doubt that it’s still alert, despite its resting state, so he moves cautiously, trying not to disturb it, as he packs up and stands. He needs to find better shelter than a cave out in the middle of nowhere.

No, he needs to find a way out of this place. They can’t honestly expect him to stay out here with no idea of the time or day and just wait to see if they’ll send someone to get him once his time is up. How would they even know where he is?

Quietly, Hajime makes his way out of the cave. It must be some type of night, because the red in the sky is darker, making it harder to see, and the temperature has dropped. It’s still warm, but no longer blistering.

He’s only taken a few steps, when he feels something nudge him from behind. Turning, he looks in surprise at the Hound, which has followed him. Standing now in front of him, its nearly as tall as Hajime, and he can see the black stripes run down both of its sides, from neck to rump.

“What’s this? You following me?” Hajime asks, unable to help but smile faintly. Had he ended up making an ally after all?

“You wouldn’t happen to know if there are any portal stones in this place, would you?” It’s either that or a teleportation circle, but those need supplies as well. Supplies Hajime doesn’t have. But if a demon of any class has a portal stone, wouldn’t they have used it by now to attack Japan? Or are they too busy fighting amongst the other Hell Dimensions to bother with them aside from sending a few imps here and there to Japan to cause mischief?

_Maybe they’re just biding their time . . . waiting to get strong enough._

That thought is unsettling.

The Hound doesn’t answer. Instead, it does something entirely different. Hunching down into itself, it begins to twist its torso back and forth, growling softly as it does. Hajime takes a step back, his unease growing.

“Uh, you okay there, buddy?”

The Hound snaps at the air, and Hajime winces, as a loud _crack_ comes from within the Hound’s body. He watches, stunned, as a few more sound, and then the Hound’s form begins to shift. It takes only a few moments before Hajime finds himself staring down at a naked human body.

Slowly, it straightens, and Hajime looks away quickly, as he notices the very male genitalia.

“Huh, wow, okay. I . . . didn’t know Hell Hounds could do that,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks back at the Hound, keeping his gaze on its, his, face.

The Hound is frowning, reaching up to touch his teeth, which Hajime can see are still sharp like fangs. His ears are slightly pointed as well, as they’d been in his Hound form, though the two black stripes are still there on either side of his head, which is covered in short, sand-colored hair, the same color his fur had been. His eyes are still dark, as well, and deeply set in his face.

He touches his chest, then, before reaching out to touch Hajime’s. He makes a noise, then, and Hajime realizes he’s speaking. It’s a language Hajime doesn’t understand, short and clipped like he’s not quite finishing each word, and his voice is deep. He looks at Hajime expectantly, as though waiting for an answer.

Hajime shakes his head, lifting his arms to the side in a helpless gesture. “I can’t understand you; I’m sorry.” He hesitates. “But, uh, here.”

Pulling off his backpack, he takes out the tarp and rope, moving forward to carefully wrap it around the Hound’s waist, keeping the tarp folded so it lay like a kilt, rather than a long skirt. Frowning, the Hound pulls it away before Hajime can finish tying it off.

“No, trust me, you need this,” he says, moving to try again.

Again, the Hound pulls it away. Hajime persists, though, until he finally manages to move quickly enough to tie the rope around the Hound and fold the ends of the tarp over it enough times to hold.

The Hound says something again, looking back at Hajime with a faint frown.

“Uh, I guess . . . if you can talk . . .” Hajime sets his hand against his chest. “I’m Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi Hajime.” He points at the Hound. “You? Do you have a name?”

The Hound stares at him for a moment. “I . . . Iwaizumi Hajime,” he repeats slowly.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Hajime pats his chest. “My name.”

The Hound reaches out, patting Hajime’s chest with more force than necessary, winding him.

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” he says again.

“Yes, that’s right,” Hajime wheezes, rubbing his chest. He points at the Hound again. “You?”

The Hound just blinks back at him. He makes a noise, then, a harsh sound that causes Hajime to wince. He watches then, startled, as the Hound smacks himself across the face. He makes the sound again with another smack.

“Okay, okay, stop,” Hajime says quickly, reaching forward to grab the Hound’s wrist.

The Hound freezes, staring at Hajime’s hand until he pulls it away.

“Sorry. But . . . I guess I shouldn’t call you what your Master did,” he says after a moment. He stares at him, trying to think of a name he could give him. What would Oikawa call him?

“Kyoken,” he says, pointing to the Hound. “That’s what I’ll call you. Kyoken. It means Mad Dog, which you’re kind of like in a way.”

“Kyoken,” the Hound repeats, staring at him.

Hajime nods. “Kyoken.” He pats the Hound’s chest gently. “Kyoken.”

Slowly, the Hound reaches up to touch his own chest. “Kyoken.”

Hajime huffs softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, this is going to take forever.” Glancing up at the sky, he notices how it was starting to grow darker. So, they do have nights after all.

“It’s probably better to move during the night when it’s cooler,” he reasons. “And I can use magic to light our way. Though you can probably see pretty well in the dark, huh?”

Kyoken continues to stare silently.

Lifting the backpack up onto his shoulder once more, Hajime holds up his hand, igniting a flame in his palm with a quick spell. Kyoken veers away from it, his eyes widening.

“It’s okay,” Hajime assures him. “It’s just to see by.”

He gestures ahead, moving his head in that direction as well. “Come on. Let’s see how far we can get before the sun comes up.”

He starts walking, knowing he has no idea where he’s going or what he’s doing, really, but figuring if he walks long enough in one direction he’ll come across some form of civilization.

Kyoken follows, keeping pace with him.

Over the next however many hours, Hajime slowly comes to understand some of Kyoken’s language, and in turn he teaches the Hound what he can of his own. They stop and rest every once in a while, Kyoken shifting back into his Hound form and going off into the darkness, coming back with a small creature of some kind dangling from his mouth. Hajime refuses it, turning to his own rations and trying not to be sickened by the sound and smell of Kyoken tearing into his dinner.

Then they’re back on their feet again, walking until Hajime is sure his feet will fall off. They’re not attacked by anything, though, and as the sky starts to grow lighter, Kyoken is able to find them some shelter in the crook of a rock formation. Keeping their voices low, they continue to do their best to communicate.

Nights pass. Through their stilted and halting words and a lot of gesturing, Hajime is able to gather that Kyoken grew up with a pack until he was caught by a demon that sold him to a Greater Demon who was a general in an army. He lived as the general’s pet and bodyguard, but was severely mistreated by the demon, until one day he saw an opportunity to run away and did so. He’d been living out in the desert for a while before Hajime found his cave.

Hajime doesn’t know how much Kyoken understands, but he tells him of his life in Japan, in Sendai. He tells him of the House of the White Rose, of his parents . . . of Oikawa. He ends up talking a lot about Oikawa, and the feelings he’s started to have recently.

“I don’t know if you have that here,” he admits. “So, I don’t know if you’d understand, but it’s like . . . he holds the sun in his smile. Fuck, that’s so cheesy.” He rubs the back of his neck ruefully. “I just . . . I want to be by his side always. I want him to depend on me, and I want to see him succeed in life, to get everything he wants. He can be an annoying little shit, at times, and he’s super obnoxious when he gets a big head about things. But even when he boasts about his skill, I know there’s a part of him that’s afraid he still won’t make it. Which is stupid. He’s the most amazing witch I’ve ever known. He’s really powerful. But, you know, he gets too in his head sometimes, I guess. I just . . . wish he could see himself the way I see him.”

Kyoken listens quietly and says nothing in response. Hajime’s used to it by now, though, so he doesn’t take offense.

That night, though, as they huddle within a cluster of black, gnarled trees, Kyoken turns his dark eyes onto Hajime and says, haltingly, “You . . . go back . . . to Oikawa.”

“I’m trying to,” Hajime says with a nod. “That’s why I need to find a portal stone.”

Kyoken stares at him for a moment before looking away. “I know stone.”

Hajime blinks, straightening in his seat. “You do?”

Kyoken nods slowly. “Master has stone. Send army through. Fight battles.”

Hajime realizes where this is going and shakes his head quickly. “No. No, Kyoken. I’m not going to take you back to your Master’s place.”

Kyoken looks back at him. “Iwaizumi save Kyoken.” Reaching forward, he presses his hand against Hajime’s chest. “Now . . . Kyoken save Iwaizumi.”

Hajime swallows hard, shaking his head again. “If we get caught . . . if _you_ get caught . . . I don’t want to risk it.”

Kyoken just stares at him with those dark, deep eyes. “Kyoken save Iwaizumi,” he repeats, stubborn.

“No,” Hajime insists.

“Yes.”

“_No._”

Kyoken growls, baring his fangs. Hajime holds his hands up.

“Okay, okay.” He pauses, scrambling to think of a solution that won’t put Kyoken in danger. “How about this: you can lead me to your Master’s place, and you can tell me where he keeps the portal stone, but you can_not_ go in with me. You’ll go back to your cave, or find a new Master. You won’t go with me anymore. Got it?”

Kyoken stares at him for another long moment before nodding slowly. “Got it.”

It ends up not being that far to Kyoken’s Master’s domain. It’s several miles to the right of where they were, but if they’d continued walking straight they would’ve passed it by only a few hours. Hajime can’t help but wonder if Kyoken had steered them in this way from the beginning, having already decided to help Hajime get home.

The city appears to be made out of the same red dirt as the rest of Hinokoku. The dwellings are made out of brick and stone, and Hajime can see creatures and demons of all types moving around the streets. They stop before they enter for Kyoken to turn back into his Hound form. Hajime takes the tarp and ties it around himself like a hooded cloak, pulling the hood low over his face. He mutters a spell for illusion, then, making himself appear as one of the demons he sees on the streets.

They move through the city as silently and stealthily as they can. Hajime catches several curious looks, but he doesn’t make eye contact, simply continues to move forward, hand on Kyoken’s shoulder beside him.

The buildings start getting closer together, more densely packed, the further into the city they go, and the smell is bad enough to make Hajime gag. He makes his way through it as best he can, breathing shallowly through his mouth, even as it dries it out faster.

Finally, they reach a wall and a high gate. There are guards stationed outside of it, but Kyoken leads him down the side of the wall, almost completely around the back of it, to a grate in the dirt. Hajime wrinkles his nose, realizing what it is.

“Well . . . can’t be helped, I guess,” he says, pulling the grate up. He turns his head away from the putrid smell that rises, gritting his teeth and steeling his nerves. He meets Kyoken’s eyes beside him.

“Thanks for everything,” he says genuinely. “I’m glad to have met you. Take care of yourself, okay?”

Kyoken dips his head slowly, gaze never wavering.

Hajime hesitates before dropping down into the tunnel below. His boots squelch against something as he lands, and the black watery liquid that runs through the sewer is almost knee-deep. Pinching his nose between his fingers, Hajime starts off in the direction Kyoken instructed, going over in his mind everything Kyoken told him about the place.

The sewer comes to another grate within the walls of the general’s home. Hajime carefully lifts it, checking to make sure the room is empty before crawling out and replacing it. He’s in a washroom of some kind. He can see the large tub in the middle of the room, and the buckets that line the wall. Creeping towards the black, wooden door, he carefully opens it just a crack, inspecting the hallway beyond.

He can hear footsteps approaching, and he quickly shuts the door, pressing himself against the wall and holding his breath. After a moment the footsteps fade, and he cautiously peers out again. The way is clear.

Keeping as low to the ground as he can, Hajime makes his way down the hall. Kyoken told him the general’s private quarters is up two flights of stairs and then down another hallway on the right, four doors down to the left. Visualizing this, Hajime mutters the spell for invisibility. Oikawa taught him that one.

He’s able to move faster now, staying close to the walls. He freezes in place whenever he hears the sound of footsteps or guttural voices, waiting until they pass before continuing forward. His heart pounds rapidly in his ears, and he hopes his feet aren’t making as much noise as he thinks they are.

Every muscle in his body is tense, aching from the strain. One misstep, and he risks exposing himself and being taken prisoner. Or killed outright. He can feel sweat dripping down the sides of his face, tickling the back of his neck. He moves faster.

The room Kyoken told him about is large and lavish. It’s completely different from the scrappy and tattered look of all the buildings and citizens of the city outside. This room has tapestries, rugs, swooping curtains, a canopy above the large, four-poster bed, which is piled high with silk blankets and pillows. There’s a bookshelf, which surprises Hajime, filled with tomes. There’s a writing desk, with an open book on it. In the corner, a large black Hound lies sleeping on a cushion.

Hajime freezes when he sees it, guessing Kyoken didn’t think that his Master would find a replacement. Then he realizes he probably should’ve guessed that himself. Checking to make sure his invisibility is still up, Hajime moves as quietly as he can, giving the Hound a wide berth. There doesn’t seem to be anyone else in the room, and Hajime scans it again, looking for the stone.

It’s not hard to spot after a second glance around. There’s a short dais near the window, a couple steps up. A stone archway stands on it, and in front of the archway is a podium with a single red stone at its center.

Hajime moves forward quickly, heading for that podium.

A low growl stops him in his tracks. Cursing inwardly, Hajime turns to see the Hound has awakened and is standing, eyes roving the room, as its nostrils flare slowly.

_It can’t see me. It can’t see me._

Hajime inches toward the podium, even as the Hound begins to stalk forward. It sniffs at the air again, before emitting a loud howl. Hajime jumps toward the podium, slamming into it with enough force to bruise his side. Grunting softly, he endures the pain, snatching up the stone. His concentration on his invisibility drops, as he focuses on the stone, frantically trying to remember the correct spell, as his heart beats an alarm inside his head.

The Hound leaps forward. Hajime jumps sideways, tumbling off the dais and onto the floor. The Hound crashes into the podium, knocking it over with a _crash_. This one is much bigger and heftier than Kyoken, drool flying from its jaws, as it shakes its head to clear it, turning toward Hajime once more.

The door bursts open and there’s a blur of black and yellow, and the Hound falls to the side, another Hound latched onto its neck.

“Kyoken! No!” Hajime shouts, jumping to his feet. His chest tightens, as he realizes the implications of this.

The Hound bats Kyoken away, raking its claws across his chest, and Hajime winces, as red lines of blood appear in his fur.

“Kyoken! Go! I can handle it!” Hajime shouts, even as he conjures a sword, the portal stone clutched in his other hand.

There are shouts, now, echoing down the hallway, coming closer. Hajime knows he should focus on making the portal, but his chest hurts at the thought of leaving Kyoken to his fate without doing anything to help. The black Hound gets up and jumps at Kyoken.

Even as Kyoken turns to face it, Hajime rushes forward, sword swinging.

Something hot and sharp stings his hand, and he drops the sword with a cry of pain and surprise. A demon has appeared in the doorway, wielding a long whip that blazes with flame. Hajime’s heart leaps into his throat, but he has no choice but to leave Kyoken to deal with the other Hound, as he turns to face the demon.

“Kyoken! Go! The window is right there!”

Kyoken growls and attacks the black Hound. It’s a flurry of claws, teeth, and fur, and Hajime doesn’t dare turn around, as the demon in front of him approaches.

“What are you doing here, human?” it snaps in Japanese, a horrible grin splitting its face, full of rotting teeth. It stands a foot taller than Hajime, with bowed legs and arms too long for its body. Horns curl up from its head, and it’s covered with large brown scales. “Are you a tasty meal for my master?”

Two more demons appear beside it, a shorter, stockier one, and a thinner one with wings, all leering at him, all with weapons. Hajime conjures another sword with a quick spell, keeping a tight grip on the portal stone in his other hand. “I’m just trying to leave. Let me and the yellow Hound go, and we won’t bother you or your master again.”

“No, I think I’m going to let my master eat you both!” the first demon says, stepping forward and striking out with the whip.

Hajime raises his sword, knocking it away before it can get a hold of him. Even as he does, he scrambles to think of the portal spell, though it’s difficult to concentrate with the horrible sounds of Kyoken yelping in pain behind him.

The first demon strikes again, as it and the others start to close in. This time, the fiery whip wraps itself around Hajime’s forearm. The smell of burnt skin fills the air, and Hajime can’t help but scream, as the fire eats into his arm. He drops to his knees, bringing the portal stone up.

“Oh no you don’t,” the whip demon snaps, reaching for the stone.

Faster than Hajime can blink, the demon’s arm is suddenly gone, snapped up in the jaws of Kyoken, as he comes flying past. The demon shrieks, and the whip falls away from Hajime’s arm, as he stumbles back. Kyoken drops the arm, snarling and snapping at the other two demons, as they turn and close in on him. Hajime blinks through the tears of pain in his eyes, looking from Kyoken to the stone and then back again.

_I can’t do it. I can’t leave him here to die._

Kyoken dodges the demons as they try to grab him, and he runs to Hajime’s side. He shifts then, bones cracking, even as the demons advance, even though it’s wasting time.

He crouches beside Hajime and lifts his head, dark eyes glinting from beneath his scowl.

“_Go_.”

“Come with me!” Hajime tries to move his burnt arm, tries to reach out to him, but at the slightest movement, pain rips through him, and he can’t.

He can’t.

Kyoken snatches the stone from his hand, even as the demons grab his arms and start to drag him back. He growls out something in the language of Hinokoku, and the air between him and Hajime rips open, revealing a park with lush green grass and tall, full trees, a night sky full of stars.

Before Hajime can say anything, _do_ anything, the portal flies toward him, and he’s sitting in that green grass, gasping. He turns quickly, but the portal winks out of existence, and there’s nothing behind him but a small pond full of still water.

Hajime shivers, as a cool breeze rustles his tattered clothes, soothes his burnt skin. His arm is screaming for medical attention, and looking down he can see the imprint of the whip’s fiery leather as though it were still wrapped around him. Curling his other hand into a fist, he slams it against the ground again and again.

He has no idea what will happen to Kyoken. Will they kill him? Will they return him to his Master?

“Idiot. _Idiot_!” he shouts in helpless rage.

Tears sting the corners of his eyes, and he can’t bring himself to do anything but sit there in the grass until he’s trembling from the cold. He has no idea what time it is, what day it is, but eventually his mind clears enough to remind him of _where_ he is.

He’s home.

Looking up, he can see that. He can see the familiar buildings of downtown Sendai all around him. Slowly, he gets to his feet. Clutching his hurt arm to his side as to not move it too much, he begins to walk.

***

Hajime has never been to Oikawa’s house, but he knows where it is. Has passed it many times on his way to the House of the White Rose’s training center. Has stopped and stared at it, wanting to go in but afraid of who might see.

He doesn’t care about that, now.

Trudging up the steps of the front porch, he leans heavily against the doorframe, as he reaches up to knock. It could be the middle of the night for all he knows, but he knocks again and again until a light comes on in the front room and the door opens.

“Who—Iwa-chan?”

Oikawa stands in front of him, wearing stupid alien-head pajamas, his hair a mess of a bedhead, eyes crusty in the corners.

He’s the most beautiful thing Hajime has ever seen.

He stumbles forward without a word, not even able to muster up a smile. Oikawa catches him, as Hajime collapses into him. His arms are strong and secure around him, and Hajime buries his nose into Oikawa’s neck, breathing in the sweet smell of him. He must’ve taken a bath before bed, because he smells of strawberries and honey.

“Iwa-chan . . . you’re so dirty and sweaty . . . what _happened_?”

Hajime sighs tiredly. “What day is it?”

“What?”

“What’s the date?”

Oikawa pauses. “It’s September 7th.”

September. Hajime was sent through the portal in August. Has it truly been an entire month?

“Iwa-chan . . .” Oikawa’s voice is soft, small. “I went to your room, but you weren’t there. Every night I checked . . . finally I just asked your parents. They said you were on an assignment. In . . . in Hinokoku.”

Hajime closes his eyes, seeing the blistering hot desert in the darkness, seeing Kyoken’s face. He opens his eyes again. “Yeah. . . . Can I use your bath?”

“Of course, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa murmurs, pulling back. He holds Hajime by the shoulders, his eyes widening when he sees the state of his arm. “Iwa-chan! You’re hurt! You need to go to the hospital!”

Hajime looks down at the burn, blinking blankly at it for a moment, before shaking his head slowly. “Not much can be done about it now. It’s gone too deep and been there too long for a healing stone . . .”

“But they can at least take away the pain!”

Hajime sighs again. Every bone in his body aches. He can’t even feel the pain anymore, and he’s pretty sure that’s a result of the nerve endings being completely gone. “You can fix it up for me, yeah? I just want a bath and some sleep.”

He moves past Oikawa, heading for the bathroom. Oikawa follows at a short distance, and Hajime can feel his eyes on him, the worry coming off him in waves. Hajime ignores it for now, turning the water on to fill the tub and flinging the backpack off into a corner before stripping out of the disgusting clothes he’s apparently been living in for a month.

“Burn those,” he says absently, as he steps into the water. The warmth of it soothes his throbbing muscles, and he leans back in the water with a slow sigh. He’ll need to deep scrub to get all the dirt and sweat off him, but for now he simply tries to relax and not think about Hinokoku or Kyoken.

Oikawa lingers in the doorway for a moment before stepping forward. He kneels by the tub, picking up Hajime’s arm. He mutters a spell under his breath, moving his hand back and forth across the burn that spirals up Hajime’s forearm. Golden magic surrounds his hand, sinking down into the wound. Hajime closes his eyes, listening to the soft rise and fall of Oikawa’s voice, as he repeats the spell, over and over. A healing stone would be faster and more affective, already imbued with the magic needed, but Oikawa’s magic is strong, and it’s only a few minutes later that he stops.

Hajime opens his eyes to inspect his arm. The burn has gone from charred, black skin to a pale pink, but a scar still remains, coiling around his forearm from his wrist to his elbow. He’s sure that’ll never go away.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says softly, taking his hand and holding it. “What happened? Will you tell me?”

Hajime swallows hard against the lump in his throat, just wanting to drop beneath the surface of the water and disappear. Tears burn the corners of his eyes again, and he’s too exhausted to fight them. They slip down his cheeks slowly and then faster and faster, until he’s sobbing hard. He pulls his knees up to his chest, burying his face in them, as his body trembles from the force of his tears.

Oikawa’s arm wrap around him, as he leans over the side of the tub and holds him as best he can. “It’s okay, Iwa-chan. It’s okay. You’re home. You’re safe now. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Hajime turns into him, clinging to him.

He’s not sure how long they stay like that. Time passes strangely. He feels as though he’s surrounded by a fog or is deep underneath the ocean. He moves mechanically, as he rids himself of the dirt and sweat. Oikawa helps him, hands steady and gentle. Hajime’s too tired to be embarrassed, and he takes the clean boxers and duck-covered pajamas Oikawa hands him without a word.

Oikawa lets him crash in his room, offering to sleep on the floor. Hajime doesn’t protest but climbs up into the bed and gets beneath the covers. Oikawa sits down beside him, facing him with his legs crossed beneath him.

“Iwa-chan . . . talk to me,” Oikawa implores, looking down into his face, searching it.

Hajime looks back up at him silently. Honestly, he _wants_ to tell him, tell him everything. But the words won’t come. They feel heavy in his chest, and he isn’t sure how to release them, to set the weight free.

“I . . .” He stops, stumbles, unsure, uncertain. There’s a feeling, the feeling he kept having in Hinokoku, the feeling he shared with Kyoken. It wells up inside of him, fast and sharp, and before he can stop it, can think better of it, it escapes.

“I love you.”

Oikawa’s eyes grow wide, and he reels back. “Iwa-chan?”

Hajime sits up slowly, determined now to follow that thread. Damn the rules. Damn the expectations. He didn’t fight to come back so he could be a good witch in the House of the White Rose. He didn’t trek across a desert and fight Hell Beasts and demons just so he could put it on his resume as a competent and powerful Demon Hunter.

No, he did all that so he could be here, with Oikawa.

With Tooru.

“I love you,” he says again, forcefully. Oikawa is still looking at him like he’s grown a second head. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. But I had to tell you.”

His heart hammers away in his chest, blood rushing to his face the longer Oikawa continues to stare at him.

“But . . . your coven . . .” Oikawa manages weakly after a moment.

Hajime shakes his head. “Fuck my coven. I don’t care about them. I don’t care what they think or what they want from me. I care about _you_. I want _you_.”

Oikawa blinks, and a look of wonder crosses his face. “Really?” he asks, his lips twitching into a smile, a grin, until he’s beaming, and the sun is right there in the room with Hajime, shining so brilliantly, he has to look away, his face still feeling hot.

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

Oikawa’s arms come around his neck, and his best friend falls on top of him, as he tackles him back onto the mattress. “I love you too, Iwa-chan!” he exclaims, loud enough to wake the neighbors.

“Shhh!” Hajime snaps, not wanting to wake Oikawa’s parents, though considering Oikawa was the one to answer the door, it’s likely they’re on a mission.

Oikawa’s lips are on his face, next, kissing it all over. Hajime has to fight a smile, even as he half-heartedly attempts to get away. But then Oikawa’s lips find his, and he stops pretending to fight it. He melts into it, wrapping his arms around Oikawa’s waist to pull him closer still.

He may get in trouble for this; he may even get banished from his coven, stripped of his magic. But it’ll be worth it, because this is where he belongs.

This is his home.

**Author's Note:**

> https://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


End file.
